


The Claiming Ceremony

by alenie



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (the enema is ritualistic and not sexual), Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Enemas, First Time, M/M, PWP, Wooden Dildos, ceremonial come-gathering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7689019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alenie/pseuds/alenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a Prince in a kingdom where all men of royal blood must remain untouched until their coming of age. Today Steve turns eighteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Claiming Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at islenskur.tumblr.com

Sunlight filters into Steve's bedchamber, reminding him that it's time to get up. He yawns into his pillow. He'd had a restless night, too keyed up to sleep soundly, because today is his eighteenth birthday. As Prince, on his coming of age he will participate in the traditional claiming ceremony to bestow his manhood upon him, and in just a short while his attendants will be in to prepare him for the day ahead. He's nervous, having never lain with a man before, but he knows the importance of this ceremony and he is eager to prove himself. The act of giving himself to another man will demonstrate humility and strength,  confirming that he has the qualities necessary to one day rule the kingdom. Many of his ancestors before him have participated in the ceremony, and Steve is determined to live up to their name.

He rolls over, tugging the sheet with him. He's not yet been told who will claim him, but he has his hopes on Sir James, one of the knights in the Royal Guard. He's a strong, handsome man, only a few years older than Steve, with grey-blue eyes and long dark hair that he ties back when he's training out in the courtyard with the other knights. Sir James doesn't talk much and he tends to keep to himself in his free time, but he's good with a sword despite the scarring on his left arm, skillful on a horse, and kind to those in need.

Steve will confess to finding excuses to linger near him, when he has the opportunity. He trains with his knights extensively, of course, but as Prince he does have many other duties that require his time, and no one would think less of him were he to spend fewer hours down in the yard. But the way Sir James grins at him when he blocks a particularly fast flurry of thrusts is damnably pleasurable, and it's a trial not to blush when Sir James claps him on the shoulder at the end of a bout. The effect he has on Steve is like that of no other man he's known, and Steve's met plenty of attractive men.

Steve tries to keep his feelings in check, as it wouldn't do to show favor to one knight over the rest, but the Queen, sickly though she may be, has always had a way of seeing straight to Steve's heart. Steve hasn't dared to bring up the subject with her, as it would be most improper for him to voice an opinion in the matter of his own claiming, but he's hopeful nonetheless. He's an only child and she's always had a soft spot for him. Besides, there's no reason why Sir James _shouldn't_ be chosen for his claiming. The Royal Guard is made up of the best of the best; any of its knights would be more than qualified for the honor of a Prince's claiming.

A manservant comes in with a tray of breakfast foods, an assortment of Steve's favorite things, and Steve is picking at the meal when the attendants knock at the door. Normally he eats enough for two men, but today his appetite is lacking. Even the pears don't tempt him as they usually do.

"Come in," he says, and two men enter, dressed in simple tunics. They bow. Steve's not familiar with them, but the Queen will have chosen them.

"Prince Steven, when you are ready, your bath has been prepared."

"I'm ready now," Steve says, standing and pushing back his chair. No reason to delay.

The clyster syringe awaits him before the bath. He eyes it with distaste. He undresses himself, to the disgruntlement of his attendants, and assumes the appropriate position. The nozzle of the syringe has been prepared to ease the way, but he still shifts uncomfortably as it sinks inside him, the metal cold and unyielding. He hears the noise of the plunger being depressed behind him and he feels the rush of water, thankfully warm, as it fills him to cleanse his body for the act of penetration. He knows that men do not always prepare themselves this way before lying together—his face still burns to recall the evening when he caught one of the stableboys bent over a bale of hay, his trousers pulled down around his thighs while a groom mounted him from behind—but today, the weight of ritual and ceremony lays upon his shoulders. Cleanliness is necessary.

His stomach cramps from the water inside him. It's a relief when he is allowed to expel it into a chamber pot, albeit distasteful. His attendants politely avert their eyes until he is through.

Next, he slips into the bath. The water is warm, nearly steaming. Normally he prefers to bathe alone, but today he is scrubbed to within an inch of his life by two pairs of meticulous hands. His shoulders, his back, his chest—and then the hands slip further down. He's never had anyone touch him here before, and despite their impersonal handling, his cock begins to stiffen, and it takes effort not to embarrass himself and thrust up. He's cleaned deftly and thoroughly, one man holding his penis up and out of the way while the other washes his balls and ass.

They dry him with a soft cloth, and lead him to kneel on the bed. Steve's eyes widen when one of the men picks up a slender wooden cock. He knew this moment was to come, knew that as an untouched man such a thing would be necessary to ease the passage of the man who is to claim him, but his heart beats faster all the same. What's more, next to it sit two more wooden cocks, each increasing in size. The first is slightly smaller than his finger, yet still a great deal more intimidating than the slim nozzle of the syringe. The largest is as thick as a carrot from the kitchens. He tries not to look at it overlong.

The attendants coat the first wooden cock with oil and set the blunt tip against him.

"Breathe out, Your Highness," one murmurs.

Steve exhales noisily, and clenches his fists as it enters him. It feels much longer than it had looked, and it is pushed inside him slowly, but without pause. At last the wide base is nestled between his cheeks. It doesn't hurt, but it's uncomfortable, and he shifts his weight, trying to accommodate it.

"If we may, Your Highness," an attendant says, and helps him to lie down on his front. He is given a massage to relieve his tense muscles, and once his body has been persuaded to relax around the wooden cock inside of him, the next one is oiled and readied while the first is removed. This one is more difficult to take, and he's grateful for his attendants, who rub his lower back as they ease the thing inside of him.

It takes his body much longer to accommodate the second false cock than it did the first, despite the scented oils his men rub into his skin. He's beginning to gain a truer understanding of this ritual than books could ever teach him—it's not easy to give up control of his body like this.

The third wooden cock is a test of will. He breathes as his attendants instruct him, but by the time the third cock is fully seated, he is covered in a fine sweat, his golden hair sticking to his forehead, and they'd had to stop once to apply more oil when it became clear that Steve's body was still overtight.

"Well done, Your Highness," one of the men says.

A cool bath has been prepared. He has some trouble getting to his feet, feeling unsteady as the wooden cock shifts inside him, but with the help of his attendants he climbs into the bath. He cannot sit down with the cock in him, so he must kneel as his men wash him once more. The cool water feels good on his skin.

Finally, he is dried and dressed in a thin shift. Tradition dictates that he must only appear unclothed in front of the man who will claim him—once he is brought to the ceremonial chambers he will have his shift removed by the overseer before anyone else enters the room.

His attendants guide him down the hall. To his surprise, Lord Wilson awaits him in the ceremonial chambers, dressed in the overseer's traditional garb.

"Sam!" Steve says, pleased. He's known Sam since he was young. They'd played together when they were small, when Sam's parents visited the court, and when they were older, hunted and hawked in the woods surrounding the castle. It's good to see him here today.

"Your Highness," Sam says, with a formal bow. He's smiling as he steps closer and helps Steve out of his shift, handing it to the attendants, who exit quietly, leaving the two of them alone.

"I wasn't told you'd be my overseer," Steve says. "But I know I'll be in good hands." He knows Sam's lain with both men and women, and that he'll make sure everything goes as it ought to.

"I'm pleased to hear that," Sam replies. He clasps Steve on the forearm. "It's an honor to oversee your claiming."

"Do you know who—" Steve begins. "No, never mind, I'll find out soon enough."

The bed is large, wide enough to fit several men, and clad in opulent red sheets. Under Sam's direction, Steve lays on his stomach, his legs spread to show the base of the wooden cock inside him and his hips supported by several pillows that raise his buttocks up. Around each wrist Sam ties a strip of silken fabric, which is then secured to the bedposts with a simple knot, more for show than any real purpose.

Steve's nerves are picking up. He trusts the Queen's judgment, but he feels vulnerable like this, spread out like a feast at a banquet.

There's a knock at the door. Steve tenses, clenching around the wooden cock.

"Do not worry," Sam reassures him, touching his shoulder. "I believe you will be satisfied with the Queen's choice."

Sam opens the chamber door, and, thank the gods, Sir James steps in. Steve flushes with pleasure, relieved that it is James who will be the first man that Steve takes inside himself.

"Your Highness," Sir James says, bowing in Steve's direction.

"Sir James," Steve acknowledges, as dignified as he can manage from his position on the bed with his unclothed ass in the air. He hopes he looks pleasing.

Sam assists Sir James with undressing. The rich blue of his tunic complements the grey-blue of his eyes. Naked, his body is even more pleasing to look at, smooth curves of muscle and strong limbs. His left arm is heavily scarred, yes, but it does not distract from his physique. Between his legs, his thick cock hangs down, drawing Steve's attention. He's well-endowed, at least as big as Steve if not bigger, and as Sir James reaches down to touch himself, Steve realizes that he's not yet completely erect. He shivers at the thought of it going inside  him.

Sam, in his role as overseer, reads out the stipulations of the ceremony as Sir James strokes himself to hardness. Steve must be fully penetrated under Sam's supervision, and his untouched status assured of. Sir James is then required to take his pleasure until he spends himself in Steve's body, at which point he must withdraw to allow Sam to insert a thick wooden plug. Once Sir James has left the room, his attendants will be allowed to enter, remove the plug and verify the presence of Sir James' seed, which shall serve as proof that Steve has satisfied the requirements of the claiming.

Steve tries to follow along, but he's well and truly distracted by the slide of Sir James' hand on his intimidatingly large cock. He's glad, now, of the wooden cock in his ass, stretching him open. He'll need it, if he is to take that inside him. He knows Sir James is a good man and a strong knight, but he does not know what to expect of him in bed. He does not even know of Sir James' preferences, if he knows how to be with a man or if he prefers a woman's body, slim and soft. Steve is neither slim nor soft, but he hopes his body will be acceptable to Sir James—he will fulfill his duty to his Prince either way, Steve has no doubt about that, but he would prefer if Sir James enjoyed the use of his body. Steve's no stranger to men and women desiring him, and yet Sir James has never shown him anything but platonic affection.

"Prince Steven," Sam says. "Do you consent to this ceremony, and to accept Sir James' seed?"

"I do," Steve answers.

"Sir James," Sam continues. "Do you consent to this ceremony, and to spend your seed inside your Prince?"

"I do," Sir James says. His voice is deep, sending a shiver through Steve's bones.

Sam offers a vial of oil to Sir James, who uses it to slick his cock. Then Sam kneels on the bed next to Steve, grasps the end of the wooden cock, and removes it from his body.

The bed creaks as Sir James settles between his legs. Sam parts Steve's cheeks to expose his hole and he hears Sir James make what he hopes is an appreciative noise. Steve imagines how he must look, slick with oil, open from the wooden cock.

The blunt, fleshy head of Sir James’ cock nudges up against him, seeking entrance. Steve is tense with nerves and anticipation.

"You may enter him, but do not thrust until I have given my approval," Sam says.

Sir James is much bigger than the wooden cock, and despite the preparation, Steve's body resists him. Steve grits his teeth and tries not to shout as the head of Sir James' cock breaches him, forcing him open. He works himself into Steve's body, inch by inch, until the rough hairs of his groin settle against Steve's skin. Steve is panting, his ass throbbing around James' thickness. It hurts, but it's bearable, and the initial pain is fading as Sir James remains unmoving inside him.

"Does he penetrate as an unclaimed man ought?" Sam asks, Steve's ears burning hot to hear him speak so freely of such things. Sam knows very well that Steve has never allowed another man entry to his body, but the ceremony dictates that he ask.

Fingers press against the place where they are joined together, checking the tight grip of Steve's body around Sir James' cock. The skin is taut and sensitive there and Steve trembles at the touch.

"He's tight," Sir James says in that rough voice of his. "Resistant to penetration, as one who has not yet lain with a man."

"Very well," Sam says. "You may proceed."

Steve, who had only just begun to become accustomed to the feeling of wet, throbbing flesh inside him, cries out and instinctively tries to move away when Sir James pulls out and thrusts back inside him.

"You must be still, my Prince," Sam says, and holds him down with firm hands on his hips so that Sir James may have his body unimpeded. To be claimed is to give yourself to another freely, and Steve must fully submit to Sir James for the success of his ceremony. It is Sir James' will that guides them here, not the Prince's, and Steve must accept however Sir James chooses to use him. It is said that to do so will make him a better ruler, as he will understand what it is like to be ruled.

Sir James is not rough, not exactly, but his strokes are deep and steady, and Steve can do nothing but let himself be taken, listening to Sir James grunt as he thrusts into his body. He requires time to adjust, but it gradually starts to feel more and more like something he _wants,_ rather than something he is allowing. The slap of skin on skin is pleasurable, and the slick noise of the oil easing the way obscene. He likes the feeling of Sir James' body over him, the weight and the heat of him, the noises he makes as he works his way closer towards spending himself. His own cock drags against the pillows beneath him, steadily growing harder.

"May I spend?" Sir James asks, breathing hard.

"You may," Sam replies, and the thrusts get harder, faster, nearly pushing Steve up the bed, seeking his relief as he mounts Steve like a stallion might mount a mare. Gods, he's big.

"Steve—" Sir James cries out, and grinds into him as he spends himself deep within Steve's body. Steve feels a glow of satisfaction settle over him. Even if he is not Sir James' ideal bedmate, his body has served well to bring him to completion.

He wants Sir James to stay inside him, he wants to reach down and touch himself until he spends, but he knows he cannot. The ceremony does not exist for his own pleasure.

Sir James removes himself from Steve's body with a sticky slide of flesh. The sensation is unpleasant and he dislikes how open he feels, but within moments Sam has inserted the wooden plug. It's no match for Sir James' cock, but it stops him from feeling as though his insides might fall right out.

His arms are released from their silken ties and he gingerly rolls over and stands up, intending to properly thank Sir James for his service. But his legs betray him with an untimely wobble and he sits back down hard on the bed, and gasps when it shifts the plug inside him.

"Your Highness, are you unwell?" Sir James asks, abandoning his tunic to kneel by Steve's side. "Did I—are you injured?"

"I am fine," Steve assures him. "Merely unused to such…activities." He stands up again to prove his point, and this time he remains on his feet, although his whole body feels as though it has gone through a hard exercise, and his ass feels hot and well-used.

Sir James remains on his knees.

"You did me a great honor, Your Highness, by accepting my participation in your claiming," he says. Steve has never seen him so serious.

"The honor is mine," Steve responds, and draws Sir James to his feet. They're of a height, Steve perhaps an inch or two taller. Sam is hovering behind them, Sir James' tunic in his hands, but for the moment they're both unclothed. Sir James' cock hangs softly between his thighs, wet with oil and seed. Steve drags his gaze back up with difficulty.

"Congratulations on your coming of age, Your Highness," Sir James says, quiet and intense, and leans forward to press his mouth to Steve's.

It's over before Steve has time to react. Sir James turns away, tugs his tunic over his head in one smooth motion, and walks out the door while Steve is still standing there, mouth open in surprise.

"Sam," he says in disbelief. " _Sam_."

"Yes, Your Highness?" Sam says. Steve gets the distinct feeling that Sam is laughing at him.

"He _kissed_ me."

"Indeed he did."

"Why would he do that?" Steve says, still baffled. "It's not part of the ceremony, is it?"

"No, Your Highness," Sam says. Steve's frustration must show on his face, because he sighs and sits down on the bed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease you. Did you want him to kiss you?"

There's a knock on the door before Steve can gather his thoughts enough to answer. His attendants have come to verify his claiming. Steve sighs and bends over the padded bench they've brought with them.

He suffers through the ignominy of being poked and prodded in some rather sensitive areas as they remove the wooden plug and encourage his body to expel Sir James' seed into a small glass jar that has been meticulously labeled. It's not pleasant, but it is necessary, and he does not complain. At last they finish, congratulating him on his newly achieved manhood and bowing before they take their leave.

By now, Steve has made up his mind.

"I need to go find him," he says, pacing the room while Sam tries to get him to hold still long enough to get dressed. "I need to find him, and I need to—to—" he stops abruptly and whirls around to look at Sam. "Sam. Do you think the Queen will be disappointed if Sir James and I—if he agrees to my suit—"

Sam raises an eyebrow. "To your _suit_?" he repeats. "Steven. A courtship should not be rushed. If you wish to pursue him, you must go slowly. Make sure he is receptive. Remember your position."

"You're right," Steve says, stricken. "I don't wish to pressure him. Thank you, I have to go, I must speak with him."

"Don't be late for the banquet!" Sam yells after him as he dashes out the door. "It's in _your honor_ , Steven, do _not_ be late!"

Steve makes a face. Banquets are so tedious, and he hates having to sit for hours in restricting, uncomfortable clothing, attempting polite small talk with the various nobles and lords. But Sam's right. He'll have to make sure he has enough time to get all fancied up for the banquet. Which means that he'd best find Sir James as fast as possible. He tries to hurry, but the faster he moves, the more he can feel the soreness in his ass.

He checks the stables first, because he knows how much Sir James loves riding. He has a grey mare that he dotes upon, and despite having a squire, he insists on grooming her himself. Steve checks her stall, but Sir James isn't there. The mare whuffs at him, hoping for treats. He pets her nose and promises to bring her an apple later.

He goes to the armory next, and it's there that he finds Sir James, polishing his armor. He looks up grimly at Steve's entrance and sets down his helm, which is already gleaming.

"Your Highness," he says, and stands. "I apologize for my misconduct. I should not have taken such liberties and I will accept my punishment as you see fit."

"Your punishment?" Steve repeats in disbelief. "James, I let you spend yourself inside me, do you honestly believe I'd punish you for a kiss?"

"I took my pleasure from you because the ceremony required it," James says, frowning. "The kiss was stolen."

"I was hoping you might steal another," Steve confesses. "If you do not find the idea distasteful."

James' eyes widen.

"I was pleased that it was you who was chosen for the ceremony," Steve continues, taking a step closer. There's a wetness between his thighs; in his haste to come see James he had neglected to clean himself further, and evidently it takes more time than he had anticipated for a man's seed to leave the body. Steve tries to ignore it as best he can.

"May I speak freely, Your Highness?" James asks.

"Of course."

"I'd hoped to be the one to claim you. To think of you with another man was…unpleasant. I thought perhaps I could slake my desires during the ceremony, put these foolish thoughts out of my head, but instead they grow only stronger."

"Foolish," Steve says. He's close enough to reach out and touch James now, and he does so, resting a hand on James' strong forearm. "How so?"

"Foolish to think that a knight could court a prince," James murmurs, meeting his eyes at last. "What could I ever hope to offer you?"

"You need offer nothing but yourself."

James exhales, so softly that Steve can scarcely hear it, and rests his fingertips just on the edge of Steve's jaw.

"Then I shall," he says, and tilts his head to fit his mouth to Steve's in a kiss.


End file.
